Carrie never tells her friends about the single awkward dinner she has with Burger after what is still referred to as the "Post-It Incident." She doesn't like to speak of that breakup, even years later because it makes her feel foolish. It is one of the few times she was completely wrong about a man, much like the politician and probably her own father. Burger had seemed like a genuinely nice guy, a lot like Aidan, until he proved to be just as weak and mean as the rest of them.

"Well, if you had cared about me at all, you would have cared enough to stay and fight with me," she told him as she sipped her martini, not bothering to meet his eye as she smiled flirtatiously at the tall brunette at the next table. She had vowed to give as much time getting over Burger as he had put into ending it, and this dinner far surpassed the fifteen seconds it had taken him to scribble down a few words on a yellow sticky note. "I mean, Burger, you're a writer. You know how these stories are supposed to go."

The author frowned down at his beer before daring to look up at her. Carrie had liked how easy it was with Burger. They had fun and just seemed to fit. It wasn't something she had often in her life. Like the cards he used to collect around Manhattan, he had just seemed to find his way to her. Now that it was over, she could see that they were never destined to last. He wasn't going to ever be the type of guy that looked for love and that was what she wanted. She needed a man who would search the depths of the earth to get her, not a guy who couldn't even wake her up to say goodbye.

"Carrie, I'm sorry."

"I know, I got your note," she bit off sarcastically. "Look, do you have anything else to say? I am supposed to meet the girls for drinks later. I could just grab a taxi and cut out early if you don't have anything else. We don't need to prolong the inevitable, right? Besides, that guy has been giving me the eye all night. You don't mind, do you?"

She knows that it's catty and juvenile and she doesn't care. She just finishes her last bite of soup, dabs at her lipsticked mouth with the cloth napkins and tosses it gently down on the table before reaching for her Prada clutch and sliding effortlessly from the booth. She looks good – Carrie knows it, Burger knows it and the guy at the next table knows it. She will walk away from this with her head held high and his tongue wagging. She dropped a twenty on the table, popped a kiss on his cheek and winked at him before smiling.

"See ya, Burger," she grinned while leaning over to drop an engraved business card on the mystery man's table. "I'd say not to be a stranger, but I don't really have any interest in seeing you ever again."

Carrie only cries for four blocks after she leaves the restaurant.

The author would like to thank you for your continued support. Your review has been posted.